More of the Same

1435h
That means more of the websurfing and browsing my list of regular sites, something that is important to the perps. If I go off the scripted track I get an error, saying the site was too busy. It is a dull Monday, coming back from staying at my parent's place last night, both of them on coordinated leg shifting duty, one either side of me. My father was in this absurd skewed slouch, the kind that he would decry if he saw any of us kids doing it. It couldn't of been very comfortable but somehow he held it together for a few hours of eveningtime TV watching.

There were plenty of maser and plasma beams flitting about, and many of them coming off the TV, though nothing is said about them. I had chocolates posted beside me, as well as across the room, so it would seem that the perps are still working on this substance/color and all the better if I eat some for an internal to external bioenergetics comparision it would seem.

Going by the TV watching content of last night, 60 Minutes and the CBC Sunday Report, the perps have moved on from showing me plenty of East Indians to negros on TV. No doubt there will be plenty of African stories in the news to come, most of it grim if any of last nights' TV was an indication. I have a tendency to write the African continent off except for the wildlife, so no doubt the perps will be working extra hard to give me some Africa based "interests". And no doubt there will be more negroes surfacing in my outings, yoga and gym classes.

It was the usual overcrowded bus arrangement yesterday afternoon, and I got the last seat to sit beside an Asian woman. It is rare that the perps have me sit beside a person when I first get on the bus; normally they like to fill in around me, especially if they need a blonde woman as some kind of "auric goodness beacon", or whatever reason they have to plant blondes in my proximity before they bring in the Unfavored demographic group members. This time, the perps had many of the Unfavored in place when I got on the bus; the wheelchair act, the severely chinless, the sentry dude looking like a Bolshivek in his long coat, and the middle aged men in wide hats. And my recall is getting hammered as I write, as I usually can recall more than that from any freakshow I get treated to. I also noted the the perps held up the bus at the stop before I got on, having it sit there for over two minutes not doing anything. This looks to be an extension of last week's games when they had the bus sit at the bus stop where I got on for no reason whatsover, and then again at the next one.

And it "so happens" that I have a red colored envelope to give to my brother tomorrow, given to me by my mother as some kind of red color testing; first at her kitchen, my place and then at my brother's. These constant fucking games, all over the fact that the perps don't have the gumption to fess up to this nonconsensual depraved tyranny they have me contained within.

I composed a letter to the infamous Allen Memorial Hospital to request a copy of any medical records, and lo, if I didn't read that they destroyed all the records during the reign of the infamous Dr. Ewen Cameron, a CIA stooge undertaking psychiatric abuse on their behalf. Which might be why there aren't more lawsuits over this despicable event, and all that it spawned. And which might be why I have an intrinsic loathing of Scot's accents and middle aged men, referring to the Unfavored again. It may be a pointless endeavor, and one can assume if I have any "motivation" to get something done, then it is the perps who are planting me with this notion. And they do like me to send letters; at one time they prevented me from paying any bills online, and still won't let me pay my Mastercard online. All to keep up this ongoing fuckery and the rest of their highly intrusionistic depravations.

1600h
I am still on an email drought; nothing but spammers of late, and even deleting these gets me noisestalked the instant I click on them to dispatch these emails. As mentioned often; everything I do is under intense scrutiny, and that includes all thoughts, actions, deeds and even glances. Anytime I notice odd activity that I am directed to, e.g. needless scratching, another noise goes off, sometimes with a maser strike to my lip or eyelids, or vision impairments or other coincident sensory event.

1735h
A screaming rage show was imposed upon me; the perps dumped the contents of my just-cooked tortilla on the cutting board as it was being moved from the frypan to the board. I have a "fool proof" way to do this, and they blatantly folded the lower tortilla and had the contents spill out. All the while, they had sirens, backup beepers, and construction equipment noises going as well as pinching my nuts, giving me the temporal lobe "floaties", and flicked olive oil about. I am made to get screaming enraged at this incursion, and invariably they suck the air out of me to modulate the volume. Now, I am getting extreme typo sabotage, so time to stop this journalling for now.

1745h
Now coughstalking from the hallway; as always, it is the same cough, the standard one. This was timed for when I was moving cells in a spreadsheet, and the extra lineweight box was moved. This is just anotherr example of the sick-minded degree of scrutiny that I find myself in all the time.

1945h
Some relative peace, though not for my hearing, still subjected to ongoing noise outside, clickings from the hallway, and like arranged events. My flickr upload was blocked again, for the second time in sucession, the few times that I attempt to update it. I also cannot access the flickr email as that link has been stripped from my view.

I came across an interesting webpage, part of the http://www.c-a-t-c-h.ca site (link), and it provides some details as to the life of another harassment sufferer, Lisa Parker. This would be a small example of what I deal with all the time; I am constantly immersed in odd noises, odd sensations, odd gravitic behavior in my apartment, never mind the public gangstalking that is the new "normal".
When at my parents yesterday, and after cutting the small roast (always an important First Feral Family gangstalk situation), a slice of meat lept off the cutting board, some 3" from the counter edge, and "fell" to the floor. I complained to my mother who was there too, (in gangstalk position), and she said that she experiences unusual events too. Just another blow-off, just another day.

2300h
Music listening; Chris Issak currently. Time to call this one done for the day.